


Corset

by tinygreyghost



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Corsetry, Crossdressing, M/M, Size Kink, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinygreyghost/pseuds/tinygreyghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull has his Inquisitor dress up for him when they have sex. (Male Lavellan)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corset

When the Iron Bull first showed it to him, Lavellan laughed and said no. He stopped laughing when he realised Bull wasn’t joking, and looked horrified instead.

“I’m not wearing that,” says Lavellan. 

“You will,” Bull tells him. His tone is not half so firm as Lavellan’s, but they both know Lavellan is going to end up wearing it. “I want to look at you in it.”

Bull chose the corset himself. It’s fashioned from buttery smooth satin the same mauve as a winter sunrise, and it’s covered with a froth of sugary pink lace. It’s tiny. The merchant had looked rightfully sceptical when he handed it to Bull, because it doesn’t look big enough to fit around so much as Bull’s bicep. 

But it’ll fit Lavellan, who is small and slight and built like a bird.

The candles have burned low in Lavellan’s quarters, and they provide little more light than the pale moonlight that comes in the bare windows from over the mountains. The room is full of shadows.

Bull settles in the square wooden chair by the desk, pours himself a large glass of wine, and says, “Undress for me, boss.”

Lavellan startles at the command; he’s still holding the corset in his hands, still gazing at it with narrowed, wary eyes. He looks like Bull’s asked him to do something truly dirty. It’s easy to forget sometimes that, despite all of the killing and the Inquisitorial throne and the roaring, crackling, poisonous magic he’s capable of, Lavellan lived a fairly sheltered life in the forests with his clan. He was by no means an innocent when he came to Bull, but there was still plenty for Bull to teach him.

When Lavellan just stands there, fingers awkwardly toying with the top button of his jacket, Iron Bull gives an amused rumble deep in his chest, and says, “You need me to help? Of course, you know how pissed Josie will be if we have to order another jacket for you ‘cause this one’s been torn clean off you.”

“I can do it,” Lavellan snaps. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and starts on his buttons. Eventually, he slides off the prim, grey jacket he wears as Inquisitor, and Bull’s face lights up as Lavellan’s chest is bared. His time fighting with the Inquisition has left him lightly but attractively muscled. His skin is still mostly smooth and unscarred, so unlike Bull’s own. 

Bull takes a slow, savouring sip of his drink, never taking his gaze from Lavellan while he carefully unlaces his boots. Lavellan kicks his boots off, then wiggles his toes in the deep pile of the Orlesian rug. Even after all this time, he’s happier barefoot. The soles of his feet are like druffalo hide. 

“Trousers and the rest too,” says Bull, before Lavellan can hesitate too long. 

The look Lavellan shoots him is half sulkiness and half outrage, but he unbuttons the front, takes another breath to steel himself, and removes his trousers and smallclothes in one graceful move. He has long, slender legs, and the best ass Bull’s ever seen. Despite his apparent reluctance, Lavellan is already more than half-hard. Bull gives another approving rumble. 

“Very nice,” he says, and he grins harder at the suddenly flushed tips of Lavellan’s ears. 

Lavellan picks up the corset again, but, before he can do anything else, Bull retrieves something from his pocket, and tosses it to him, saying, “These first.” 

Lavellan catches the scrap of fabric and shakes it out. His pretty eyes widen in alarm. His mouth drops open - _and Bull can’t help but think of the wicked things he has done with that lovely mouth._

“Bull, no!” Lavellan protests. “I can’t!”

Bull shrugs, unable to help his shit-eating grin. “Why not? They match the corset I bought for you.”

The panties are indeed as mauve and lacy as the corset. They are also indecently small.

“Put them on,” says Bull, and he’s surprised by the roughness of his own voice.

For a moment, he expects Lavellan to fight him some more, but instead, he meekly bows his head and slips the panties on. They sit low on his narrow hips, just below the jutting knobs of his hipbones. His cock is an obvious bulge within them, straining against the satiny material.

Lavellan strokes the lacy trim against the plane of his stomach. He shoots Bull an imploring look. “Please. This is ridiculous.”

“It really isn’t.” Bull lets out an uneven breath. He shifts in his seat. His own cock is thickening rapidly, growing big with blood and desire. He takes another slow sip of his wine. 

“It is!” says Lavellan. “These are for a woman. If you want a woman, you should-“

“I want _you_ ,” Bull says, cutting straight over that crap before Lavellan can say another word of it. “You have no idea how you look, kadan.” 

Looking is no longer enough. His mouth is dry with hunger. He sets his glass down and gets to his feet. Lavellan obediently holds still as he approaches. Lavellan trembles when Bull’s big hands sweep down his sides, gliding over his ribs, but it’s not fear that makes him shake; it’s _want_. 

Gently, Bull settles his hands on Lavellan’s shoulders and turns him to face away from him. Lavellan allows himself to be moved, ever so good and pliant. For a brief moment, Bull holds Lavellan’s near-naked body against his own, wraps him in his arms. He rubs the hardness of his dick against him, because he can’t help himself, and because he wants Lavellan to know how sweet he’s being for Bull. 

Then, Bull’s hands on his shoulders grip him tight and force him forwards. Lavellan catches his breath in a gasp, but he goes without a struggle. Even were Lavellan to fight him – which he does sometimes, when he needs to kick and punch and scratch, then be held down and fucked into submission – unless he uses magic, Bull can manhandle him as easily as he would a child. 

He puts him where he wants him: Lavellan braced against the desk, muscles in his arms trembling as he holds the position. Lavellan is perfectly positioned as it is, but Bull never misses a chance to put his hands on him. He adjusts Lavellan’s grip on the edge of the desk, puts his foot against the inside of Lavellan’s ankle and kicks his legs wider apart. Again, Lavellan makes a cut-off sound of surprise, but obeys. 

Bull has to pause his plans a moment to admire him. 

In the dim moonlight, the uneven flickering of the candlelight, Lavellan’s skin shines like it’s been polished. He’s still shivering. As the Inquisitor, he’s so tightly wound that as soon as he lets go it’s close to complete breakdown. Bull likes being the one to catch him. He _needs_ to be the one. 

Without the Qun to provide a sense of order, Lavellan is all that stands between Bull and madness.

Bull picks up the corset and steps in behind Lavellan. He carefully positions the front of the corset against Lavellan’s flat chest, allowing the callused pads of his fingers to graze Lavellan’s dark little nipples. The muscles in Lavellan’s belly jump, and Bull smiles to himself. He smoothes the satin around him, ensuring the hooks are fastened and the bone stays are in place, then gathers the pink ribbon laces in his hands, and begins to tighten them. 

Bull is ruthless. He tugs roughly enough to shake Lavellan’s whole body, nearly yanking him off his feet more than once. Lavellan tries to be good and to hang on to the edge of the desk, but he has to struggle for breath in cut-off gasps and sighs, as Bull determinedly locks his ribcage up tight within the satin and stays. 

When at last Bull’s done, the heaving rise and fall of Lavellan’s chest and shoulders is erotically pronounced. The shape of his body is absurd; Bull can encircle Lavellan’s tiny waist in his two hands. A savage desire to take Lavellan _now_ stirs inside him, but Bull tamps it down. He has self-control enough to play the long game, for a sweeter reward, for Lavellan.

He strokes Lavellan’s upper-arm, still braced against the desk, and the touch is just light enough to tease. Goosebumps rise on Lavellan’s skin.

“How’s that?” Bull says. 

He listens to Lavellan’s mouth work as he wets his lips. Lavellan shifts, just slightly, maybe trying to catch a glimpse of Bull, and the corset creaks. “Tight,” he says. He hesitates, then adds, “Good.”

It’s quiet in the room, only the occasional blurred hum of a raised voice or bump of movement to remind them that they’d only have to go down the stairs from Lavellan’s quarters to be back in the main hall with tens of other people, and hundreds more within Skyhold. The sound of Bull unbuckling his belt is distinct, and loud enough to make Lavellan’s spine stiffen. 

That’s not what Bull plans to use his belt for, not today, although he acknowledges the tantalising strip of skin between the bottom of the corset and the top of Lavellan’s frilly panties. As much as Bull enjoys how beautifully Lavellan stripes when the belt hits him and the high, pained sounds he makes, that technique is solely for when Lavellan is suffering so deeply he needs to be taken well and truly out of his own head.

Instead, he makes a loop of his belt and, holding it in one hand, Bull lifts Lavellan’s hands free from the desk, brings them behind Lavellan’s back, and slides the belt over his wrists and up his arms. When he tightens the belt, Lavellan’s shoulder blades are forced together and his chest arches. His breathing hitches painfully. The leather bites into his flesh. 

At last, Bull buckles his belt and turns Lavellan by the shoulders to face him. If Lavellan were a woman, his breasts would be pushed forward in an obscene display. Even ignoring the thickness of his dick pressing against his satin panties, he doesn’t appear at all feminine. He’s too hard, too sharply edged. Masculine as he is though, his prettiness gives him an undeniable vulnerability, and dolled up in such a confection of lace and satin, he looks fit for nothing but debauching.

Lavellan’s cheeks are flushed. There’s that look in his eyes, heated and uncertain, that means he’s wondering if he’s in over his head. But he’s holding as neutral an expression as he can. 

He doesn’t have a clue idea how good he looks, only that Bull likes it.

“How you doing, kadan?” Bull says. 

He steps in close enough that the straining bulge of his own erection is right there against Lavellan’s body. Lavellan darts a quick, furtive look down at him, his cheeks flushing even darker. He still flusters so easily. 

“Okay,” says Lavellan. He holds perfectly still as Bull bends to brush his lips against the crook of his neck, over the flutter of his pulse, blood so hot just beneath his china skin. His careful submission makes Bull feel downright fucking predatory. 

The corset still carries the fragrance of the merchant’s boutique: sweet dried flowers and expensive Orlesian candies. It’s incongruous on Lavellan, whom Bull is more used to smelling of healing herbs and sweat. 

“Only ‘okay’? I want you feeling much better than that.”

Without warning, Bull swings Lavellan off his feet and heaves him over his shoulder. With his arms bound behind himself, Lavellan can’t catch hold of Bull to steady himself; he’s only a stiff-limbed little fuckdoll for Bull to put where he wants. 

Bull tosses him face-first onto the bed, and Lavellan curses indignantly, his voice muffled in the over-stuffed red pillows and blankets of the Inquisitor’s bed. Trying to sit up, he flounders against the softness of the bed, shoulders and hips working furiously to compensate for his bound arms. 

It’s a really nice spectacle. Bull enjoys watching him struggle, tied up and cursing breathlessly, and wearing nothing but the ridiculously girlish underwear he bought for him. 

Eventually, Lavellan succeeds in pushing himself up onto his knees. Still panting, he tosses his head to knock his hair out of his eyes, so he can fix Bull squarely with a glare. It’s a venomous enough look that Bull laughs and says, “Remember now, no magic.”

“Don’t throw me around like a sack of grain,” Lavellan snarls. “You know I could boil your blood in your veins!”

“And how would I be supposed to fuck you like that?” says Bull, unruffled by Lavellan’s viciousness. “And you know you _do_ want me to fuck you, kadan. You know you want me. In you. On top of you. All over you.” He underlines his point by leaning over him and smoothing his hands over Lavellan’s silky thighs.

Lavellan doesn’t argue, even if the poisonous glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. 

When Bull sits down on the bed, his weight causes the mattress to sink alarmingly, and the only reason Lavellan isn’t sent tumbling again is because he readies for it. Bull gets comfortable against the head of the bed, punches a pillow ‘til it’s nice and fat, and stuffs it behind his shoulders. His dirty boots leave marks on the embroidered coverlet, just like his fingers leave bruises on Lavellan’s fine elven flesh.

He pats his knee. “Come here, let me play with you.”

Lavellan hesitates, torn between wanting Bull to have him, and demonstrating that he still isn’t happy about being thrown onto the bed. Retaining a faintly haughty air, Lavellan eventually shuffles up the bed and climbs into Bull’s lap. 

As soon as Lavellan’s within reach, Bull takes him by the hips and puts him right on top of his dick. Lavellan is a slight, hot weight, and there’s only the layer of Bull’s trousers and those silly little panties between their bodies. 

Bull grips Lavellan at the back of the neck, and pulls him in close. Lavellan’s lips part obediently for a kiss, but instead Bull turns him at the last minute and he drags his tongue up Lavellan’s cheek, tasting his skin. He moves his mouth to Lavellan’s ear, and whispers, “Wriggle, baby. Let me feel you squirm.”

The gorgeous little fucker knows how to move, all right. He rolls his hips and grinds his ass down like he’s stuffed full of dick already. Bull fits his palms around the curves of his haunches, two pleasingly round handfuls. He doesn’t guide him, just lets him move. 

Lavellan can’t brace himself against Bull like he usually would when he rides him, and the frustration shows on his face. His teeth are gritted and his brow is furrowed. As he works himself on Bull’s lap, his tiny grunts grow increasingly desperate.

It feels really fucking nice, of course, to have Lavellan grinding away on top of him, rubbing his satin-wrapped dick against Bull’s own hardness. The visual’s stunning too: that pretty elven body all dressed up for fucking, those pretty little nipples just peeking out over the crest of pink lace, that pretty cock so flushed and hard for him.

And his face – Bull’s not a poetic man, but he could write ballads about Lavellan’s face. Even by elven standards, Lavellan is stunning. One of the more popular ballads right now describes his wide, luminous eyes and delicate bone structure as ‘otherworldly’. Right now though, utterly focused on his own pleasure, Lavellan could teach desire demons a thing or two.

Something must change in Bull’s expression as he's studying him, because Lavellan slows, then stops. He swallows hard to catch his breath, his chest heaving delightfully. 

“What?” he demands, anger not quite masking an undertone of uncertainty. He’s good at sounding sure of himself; he has to outside this room. He can’t run the Inquisition, can’t sit in that throne and pass judgement or stand at the war table with Cullen and Leliana, if he sounds like he has doubts. But he can’t fool Bull. 

That he still needs reassurance that Bull wants him and that he’s capable of pleasing Bull, touches something in Bull's chest. 

As tenderly as he’s able, Bull cups Lavellan’s cheek in his palm. His thumb rests on the fullness of Lavellan’s lower lip. It doesn’t escape him that Lavellan instantly, instinctively tilts his face into his touch. 

“Kadan, you are the kind of beautiful that men would kill for, you know that? And you’re mine. I can do what I want with you.” The rush of brutish satisfaction Bull feels at his own statement makes his dick jerk. He pushes his thumb between Lavellan’s softly pliant lips, deep enough to rest on his tongue. “And I want you just like this, laced up and helpless, waiting for me to bend you over and take you. Hard.”

Lavellan gazes at him, muzzy-eyed with lust, and, in that unguarded moment, Bull grabs him by the thighs and rolls him over facedown on the bed. He jams a pillow under Lavellan’s belly so his ass is pushed up in the air. 

Lavellan huffs his hair out of his face and turns his cheek to the bed so he can still breathe.

“Comfortable?” Bull asks.

Lavellan doesn’t answer beyond dragging in a huge breath. He’s trembling again, and Bull frowns and leans in to catch his eyes. 

“Kadan? Are you okay?” he says. He strokes a tendril of hair off Lavellan’s sweat-damp face. 

Lavellan looks wretched: pink-cheeked and his big eyes bright with unshed tears. “Please, Bull, I need…”

Bull chuckles. “I know what you need, and you’ll get it when, and _if_ , I choose.”

He yanks Lavellan’s panties over to one side so he can spread his pert asscheeks apart, and gives a good spit on the cleft of his ass. He watches the gobbet of his saliva roll down over Lavellan’s hole. 

Bull tries a finger in his ass experimentally, gets in only to his second knuckle before Lavellan squirms awkwardly. Such a tight little hole, Bull thinks to himself. Nobody’d ever expect this dainty little elf mage was taking it regularly from an oversize qunari reaver.

Lavellan makes a noise, indignant or impatient, in response to the finger still pressed inside him, and Bull lightly swats the back of his thighs.

“Quiet,” says Bull. “This little hole is mine. It belongs to me. It’s for me to put my cock in. Or my fingers, or my tongue, or anything else I want to make you ride. Understand?” 

The sound Lavellan makes this time is much closer to a moan, and Bull grins to himself, even as he ruthlessly palms the stiff length of his dick through his trousers to stave off his own compulsion to be balls-deep in Lavellan already.

He leaves Lavellan for only a few moments, while he retrieves the vial of oil from where he left it on the desk, but he makes up for his absence by digging his fingers into the rounds of Lavellan’s buttocks and manhandling the flesh greedily. His blood is beating hot in his body and he feels half-drunk from arousal. 

Lavellan himself is not so surreptitiously rubbing his erection against the pillow beneath him. The needy writhing of his hips is mesmerising to watch, but Bull has no intention of letting him get off so early.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Bull demands. He swats Lavellan’s buttcheeks again, not so gently this time, and Lavellan cuts off with an agonised sob. 

With the red print of his fingers just beginning to rise on Lavellan’s skin, Bull wedges his knee between Lavellan’s thighs, hooks his panties out of the way again and spreads him open. 

He uncorks the vial and sniffs the oil appreciatively. It’s one of the fancy concoctions Dorian recommended. When they’re stealing time together, up against the tavern wall or in their tent at an Inquisition camp, Bull has used a lot of things to get Lavellan greased up enough to get his cock in, but for times when he means to properly work Lavellan over, he likes to use the nice stuff. 

Lavellan deserves it, after all. 

The oil is clear but smells distinctly of apples. Bull pours a liberal quantity down Lavellan’s cleft and watches that trickle over his hole as well, right on down to the soft swell of his balls and the underside of his dick, all over the satiny edge of his panties. The oil glistens obscenely on his skin, and Bull is seized by the desire to bury his face in Lavellan’s ripe little ass and lick him until his jaw aches and his chin is sticky. 

Instead, practicing self-restraint, Bull slicks up two of his fingers and begins to rub Lavellan’s hole, while Lavellan shivers and sighs. He doesn't push in again, not at once. He enjoys simply teasing him, only sometimes pressing in just hard enough for Lavellan's hole to begin to open for him, before sweeping his fingertips right back under the frilly trim of his panties. Then, when he’s got Lavellan’s spine shining with sweat in the moonlight, Bull slides his thick fingers _in_. 

Lavellan’s so smooth and so hot inside, body wrapping tight around his fingers like wet silk. Bull only has to start to crook his finger, let his knuckle nudge him inside, and Lavellan whines and turns his head to press his other cheek to the bed. His eyelashes are spiky with tears. His hands clench and unclench into useless fists and the muscles in his arm flex against Bull’s belt.

While Bull finger-fucks him, shallow and slow, he leans forward to press an open-mouthed, sucking kiss against the nape of Lavellan’s neck. 

“So beautiful, kadan,” he murmurs, before his kiss turns into a grazing of teeth. “You’re so good for me.”

The oil’s scent is more powerful now, and it glistens on Lavellan’s body, slick on his ass and his smooth inner thighs. It makes faintly dirty noises as Bull works him open with it. Lavellan’s breathing in quiet, punched-out sobs, growing louder and more needy, frequently threatening to reach a scream. 

“You’re okay,” Bull tells him. The oil has dribbled down his wrist and dripped on the bedcovers; he’s making one hell of a mess. His dick throbs painfully hard. “You’re doing so well.”

If it’s torturous for Lavellan, it’s little better for Bull. He can only stand it so long. 

At last, he pulls his fingers free and unfastens the front of his trousers, just enough to take his cock in hand. He greases his dick with the oil, and he’s so thick and hard and dark with blood he thinks he could easily rip Lavellan apart. He feels more of an animal than ever, so massive and monstrous in his appetites, mounting this lovely creature he’s got tied up under him.

His breath coming in fast, hard pants, Bull moves in behind Lavellan, and Lavellan’s thighs go tense. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Bull mutters, like he’s coaxing a wild animal closer. 

One hand holding the panties to the side, Bull uses his other to press the fat, blunt head of his cock against Lavellan’s slicked-up hole. Bull grits his teeth to steady himself, to remind himself to go slow, as he gradually, relentlessly forces his meat into Lavellan’s body. Corseted up and trapped, Lavellan struggles to breathe, and Bull hears panic beginning to set in. 

“Shh, kadan, shh. Let me in, just let me in. Let me get inside you.” 

The stiff length of his dick sticks out of Lavellan’s ass, splitting him open, but Bull’s barely in him. Bull takes him by the hips, pulls him back as he pushes forward, and his cock finally breaches him fully. He penetrates him in one long grind, pressing the air out of Lavellan’s slender body and filling him up with his dick instead. 

Hanging helplessly from Bull’s hands, Lavellan sobs into the blanket. He’s tight and hot and completely fucking perfect on Bull’s dick, and Bull grunts at the sensation. He has to pause to catch his own breath. He gives another short shove, and Lavellan cries out, but Bull’s stuffed in as far as he can go; his heavy ball sac is pressed against Lavellan’s ass.

There’s a sheen of sweat all over Lavellan’s naked skin, and he’s shivering desperately as he’s spread wide and speared to the bed by Bull’s huge fat cock, throbbing hard and brutal in his hole.

Bull moves very carefully: slides his arm under Lavellan’s chest to hold him by the shoulder, his other hand at his hip. Lavellan sags like a broken thing, allowing Bull to take his full weight.

"Just take it, kadan. That’s all you’ve got to do," says Bull. “No decisions to make, no action needed, nothing at all. Just take it for me.”

Heat on the back of his neck, he swallows, steadies his own breathing, then _moves_. It's a long, slow drawing out of his cock - Lavellan's body gripping him tight and sweet - followed by a deep smooth shove back in that makes Lavellan jerk like he’s dying. 

"Beautiful," Bull tells him, ragged-voiced and reverent. 

He's honoured really. Like this, Lavellan's more of a prop than an active participant. He gives himself up to Bull, lets Bull use his body to get off like Bull'd use his own fist. He takes Bull so well. Bull settles into fucking him, pounding steady and hard, making Lavellan twitch and moan. He savours every sound out of Lavellan's mouth, the rub of his overheated skin against Lavellan's. His hand on Lavellan's hip feels out the very shape of the bone beneath the skin. 

He gets so deep inside him that the neat curve of Lavellan's ass is tucked against his hips, and Bull's hunching over him, covering him like an animal. There's that visceral madness in his chest, burning like rage and hungry like bloodlust. He could spend every last minute of his life doing this: fucking into this precious armful. 

Overtaken by a surge of emotion, Bull pulls out, dick still aching and thick, and flips Lavellan onto his back. The wet, rosy head of Lavellan’s prick is visible against his flat belly, and Bull savagely tears the panties from Lavellan’s body and tosses them aside. He doesn't let Lavellan catch breath to speak before he's hooked his slender legs over his elbows and is driving back into him, slamming in balls-deep in one move, and grinning like a maniac at Lavellan's near scream. 

He lingers in the moment: the clutching heat, the heavy weight of building arousal low down in his belly, and the devastated look on Lavellan's face. Bull's fucked him to the point of tears, and those tears make his eyes shine like magic. He's bitten his lips 'til they're red and bruised. Bull bounces him upright on his lap, nearly bending him clean in two, so he can take a kiss from him, rough and greedy, like biting into the sweetest fruit. Lavellan's cheeks are wet and hot against Bull's, and he kisses back desperately, chasing Bull's mouth when he tries to break free. 

Lavellan's own weight drags him down on Bull's dick. His body is slippery and hot. Bull holds him in his arms and licks away the sweat that’s gathered in Lavellan’s collarbone, at the fragile juncture of his neck and shoulder. He mouths Lavellan’s flesh bruisingly while he works Lavellan on the hardness of his cock buried right in him.

He knows he’s not going to last much longer, so he grips Lavellan’s cock - and maybe his hold’s too tight or Lavellan’s on a hair trigger, but it doesn’t take any more than Bull’s hand on him, for Lavellan to cry out and buck in his lap. His dick jerks as he comes violently, splattering his belly and Bull’s hand with spunk. 

The way Lavellan’s body clenches around him drags Bull right along behind. His balls draw up tight, his arousal flaring into a deafening roar, and he clutches Lavellan to himself, and Lavellan’s still wet and dazed and unprotesting, when Bull empties his seed into his ass, filling him right up with deep, nasty spurts of come. He keeps coming, and it feels so good that it almost hurts. Sensations fire inside him, whiting out his vision, and all he can focus on is holding Lavellan in place on his lap while his dick and his heart pulse in time.

Tingly aftershocks of pleasure wash through him and Bull’s whole body throbs. He feathers Lavellan’s cheek and temple with kisses. Lavellan’s shoulders are shuddering as he struggles for breath. With his thumb on Lavellan’s chin, Bull tilts his face up to his and drinks in the sight of him. He’s so beautifully trembly and dazed, stripped bare in a way even their fiercest battles has never left him. He gazes back at Bull, like he’s seeing him for the first time, as always.

Gently, Bull tugs the laces on the corset loose, and Lavellan sags against him as though at some point in being fucked his spine was broken and it was only the corset holding him together. He rests his cheek against Bull’s massive chest, and Bull feels the flicker of his tongue as he wets his lips. 

“Mmmm,” Lavellan says finally: a long contented sigh. He draws himself up carefully, and Bull eases his spent cock from his hole. Lavellan makes an odd little noise as Bull’s spunk trickles out of him, which makes Bull want to go again already. 

Instead, because he’s pretty sure Lavellan will actually die if Bull gets his dick in him again so soon, Bull uses the tossed aside panties to mop up the mess. Lavellan reaches out to take the panties from him, and Bull lets him. Lavellan fingers the torn fabric a moment, tugging at the loose thread of broken stitches, before he looks back up at Bull. 

"You ripped them," he says, and Bull hears both surprise and mild accusation in his tone. 

Bull grins and takes the panties back from him. They're sex-soaked and ruined, and Bull's going to keep them for the next time Lavellan is out on Inquisition business without him and Bull's missing him too much. 

"I'll buy you another pair," Bull promises. 

~end


End file.
